Semper Eadem
by Video-et-Taceo
Summary: The only time she could think of her mother was late at night when she was fast asleep and caught up in dreams. She wasn't sure if they had any grain of truth to them or if they were just images of moments she wished she could remember. Regardless, they were comforting and one of the few joys she had in life.


_Semper Eadem_

This is just a simple little story I wrote for my mother. She's the Anne to my Elizabeth. (I apologize for any mistakes. Even if I read something a million times, I always manage to miss a few errors.)

Elizabeth held the glass up to her face to examine her features. Staring back at her was the pale skin of her father. It was said that her fairness was remarked upon at her birth. Everyone must have expected – or feared – that she would inherit the dark features of her mother. But instead, the pale skin of her father had combined with the unmistakable mark of a Tudor: fiery red hair.

But she was unmistakably her mother if anyone looked past the coloring of her father. She was very thin with a swan like neck and long, elegant fingers. Her hands were a feature she was very proud of. The most striking feature that she inherited from her mother, though, was her eyes. Her eyes were so dark that they were nearly black.

She wasn't a great beauty. She knew that. If there was anything that made people look past this and consider her more beautiful than any other lovely lady at court, though, it was her enticing eyes. They could capture the soul with one glance.

She wondered how beautiful her mother used to look in her young eyes. If only her eyes could have captured the memories permanently so she didn't have to struggle to hold on to them.

Many a night she had pestered Kat to tell her about her mother. No one ever spoke of her except in hushed whispers. Even when Elizabeth was accepted back in her father's good graces, the inquiring looks never stopped. Everyone wanted to see the only thing that was left on earth of the infamous Anne Boleyn: her daughter.

She didn't have any portraits of Anne. The only ones she knew of had been destroyed in an effort to make it seem as if she never existed. Her brother Edward had portraits of his mother everyone. The late Jane's likeness was even painted into their family portrait. She couldn't help but look at it with contempt. She felt terribly guilty for feeling the way she did. Poor Edward had lost his mother too and she shouldn't grudge him anything.

But then there was Mary. Mary talked on and on about her "sainted mother". Elizabeth thought she might scream if she heard Mary declare her mother was the true Queen of England one more time. Her mother had been a true queen too. She was sure of that no matter what anyone said. Again, she felt guilty for being so annoyed with Mary and asked God to forgive her. Even as she prayed for forgiveness, she hoped God understood that there was no worse punishment for a daughter than to be without her mother and, even worse, to have the few memories of them together quickly slipping through her fingers.

The only time she could think of her mother was late at night when she was fast asleep and caught up in dreams. She wasn't sure if they had any grain of truth to them or if they were just images of moments she wished she could remember. Regardless, they were comforting and one of the few joys she had in life.

She dreamed that her mother had visited her at Hatfield as she often did. She arrived in the latest fashion. Her stylish French hood was encrusted with jet stones and white pearls. In her hands were dresses and books. A big smile adorned her face. Anne lifted her up and set her upon her lap. Elizabeth loved when her mother read to her. When she read, it was almost as if she was singing. Elizabeth knew she would never meet another woman as graceful and fashionable as Anne Boleyn.

Today her mother taught her a new phrase. Scribbled inside her book were two Latin words.

"This is the Latin phrase Semper Eadem. It means always the same. I want you to know that this is how I will always feel about you, Elizabeth. My love for you will be always the same. Nothing in the world would make me stop loving you. Not even death."

When she awoke, Elizabeth could still remember the dream clearly.

"Kat, " she said. "I had another dream about my mother."

Kat pressed her finger to her lips. Elizabeth always took care to keep her feelings about her mother private, but her charge could be willful and she didn't want Elizabeth to get into the habit of tossing her mother's name around. Even in her bedchamber, she was not alone. There were ears everywhere.

Leaning close to Elizabeth so that no one else could hear, Kat told her the two things she needed to remember about her mother.

"You have an angel in heaven that is always looking out for you. Your mother faced the sword bravely. She gave that same strength to you."

Elizabeth knew Kat's words were true. Some people might compare her to her father, but she had her mother's strength. If she always remembered that, there was no challenge she couldn't face.

The next night, Elizabeth whispered a thank you to the heavens. She knew her mother heard it.


End file.
